Last Dance With The Devil
by Scorcrazy
Summary: In the film Pulp Fiction Marcellus Wallace was swindled out of a great sum of money, run over by a car and violated. This is the continuation of Marcellus' very complicated story. The man was pushed to his limits and the following is the result.


Marcellus waves his hand with his back still turned to Butch, who takes one last pitiful look at Zed before heading for the stairs and, eventually, towards the door. Marcellus then returns to the matter at hand, "Alone at last muthafucka," he snarls angrily. "C'mon, kill me you black son of a bitch, do it!" Marcellus smiles, "oh I'm gonna take you out hillbilly, I'm just gonna show your ass a good time before I do." "You know, make sure you go out with a bang and shit," he cocks the shotgun and fires into Zeds left knee. Zed screams in agony and is now in so much pain he doesn't know what part of his body to reach for. Tears begin to roll down his pale face as he looks over at Maynard's bleeding out body. "Oh don't start repenting just yet cock sucker, I told you I'ma get mid evil in this bitch" Marcellus spews, barley able to contain his saliva. "I'ma perform some real dark arts, black magic type shit on your ass, that's gonna leave you so fucked up, god won't recognize you at the gates." Zed let's out soul less whimper before trying to speak, "f-fuh-fuck ... you nigger, Fuck You!" Marcellus smiles, "oh yeah we gonna get along tonight." Marcellus looks around for a phone before heading for the stairs, "be right back bitch."

He then heads up the stairs and over to the door and locks up the general store. He then takes a look around the dank store; surveying his surroundings he fills with disgust at the thought of all the unimaginable sexual torture that must have gone on here over the years. Snapping out of the chilling thought, he scratches his head and heads over to the sales counter. Marcellus can't believe the day he's having, being hit by car and rendered unconscious, not to mention most likely suffering from a concussion. All of that, only to be held captive and sodomized by a sick redneck; in the basement of this dusty hell hole that's supposed to pass for a store. He has since second guessed calling up those "pipe hitting niggas" he told Butch about. Marcellus knows he has to keep this shit close, and even though he'd bury any fool who'd dare part his lips on the subject, he thinks to himself, why take the chance. He'll devise an even bigger surprise for old Zed, who is still downstairs leaking from his nuts.

He scans the messy counter for something, anything, with an address. Finally he comes across a sticky playgirl magazine addressed to Maynard Whitaker at 3710 La Brea Ave. He then turns his attention to the phone, after a few quick finger movements, it begins to ring. "Yeah," the voice on the other end answers." It's me," Marcellus explains, "I need Vince to get his ass over to La Brea!" The voice responds with something obviously undesired, "well where the fuck is he?" Marcellus shoots back. The voice replies again, and a look of realization appears on Marcellus' face," hey later for that," he replies into the phone in a more patient tone. "Send me The Hawk and my brief case", There is a slight pause on the other end of the phone before the voice is audible once again, "uh no problem boss." Marcellus is put at ease, "get on the muthafucka." He slams down the phone and looks toward the basement door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he see's the neck of a glass bottle. He snatches the bottle from its resting place with the intent of putting it to his mouth but is momentarily disappointed by its lack of contents. He then thinks of a better more unpractical use for the bottle. He heads toward the door and down the stairs. Due to the traumatic experience of being anally raped, Marcellus had forgotten about the unknown man in the basement, whom Maynard and Zed had dubbed "The Gimp."

The man had been knocked unconscious by Butch during his escape but had since begun to come to; still tied up, he sees a burly, blurred figure approaching him. the Gimp is also a bit scarred from the mental and physical abuse inflicted by Zed and Maynard, so at the sight of the figure he panics with fear. "Shut the fuck up muthafucka!" Marcellus warns he then unzips the zipper to the mask worn by The Gimp and rips it off to reveal a dirty blonde man with a rather large nose and a gag ball in his mouth. He pulls the ball out which is an obvious relief, "Oh god mate, thank you" The Gimp says in an English accent. Marcellus is puzzled at what to do with this man so he decides to ask a few questions.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Marcellus begins. The Gimp responds, "Look mate, I came into this store to pick up a few things for my girlfriend, and these two wankers …" the man pauses to choose his words carefully but Marcellus is in no mood for subtleties. He sticks the shotgun under the Gimps chin, "no time for shyness, finish it." The Gimp clears his throat and in a very quiet tone states, "they raped me." Marcellus pulls back; he slings the shotgun over his shoulder and looks at the man once more with a quizzical stare. The Gimp stares back, delivering a look as if to say, he couldn't possibly have made this shit up. Marcellus releases the Gimp from his dangling hold, "come with me, keep ya mouth shut and you might stay alive."

Both men head into to the back room where Zed has lost consciousness. Marcellus, bottle and shotgun in hand, is not ready for him to go just yet. "Time to wake up hillbilly, I got ya medicine muthafucka." Zed slowly opens his eyes to see both Marcellus and the Gimp standing over him. His eyes quickly dart toward the bottle and shotgun being carried by Marcellus, he knows his time is short but can only imagine how the finale will come. "Pick his ass up!" Marcellus barks to the Gimp. "What?" Marcellus whips the shotgun off his shoulder, "You say you ain't down with this freak shit then you shouldn't have a problem taken this muthafucka out!" The Gimp looks down at Zed pitiful and bleeding, and slams a foot into his chest. He leans down to pick up his bloody body, standing next to him Marcellus barks "lean his ass over this chair, and hold this bottle." Zed, now moaning and bent over a chair, begins to speak. "Yo... you know you liked it nigger." Enraged Marcellus slams his ham like fist into Zeds jaw, which explodes with blood. Shaking his hand Marcellus has an idea, "you know what, you talk too much, let's keep him quiet."

He reaches into his sock for a knife, flips it open, and grabs Zeds face, "open up bitch! Stick it out." As he squeezes Zeds face, Zed begins to scream as Marcellus hacks out his tongue. "You like that hillbilly." Zed squeals like an animal, no longer capable of speaking. The Gimp winces at this brutality; he can't believe what he's seeing. Marcellus then orders "Pull his pants down", "Wait What?" The Gimp retorts, halfway still in shock. "Look, you're almost outer here, don't fuck up now." The Gimp drops the bottle and grabs Zeds waist, he pulls down his pants, exposing his ass. Marcellus chimes in again"Stick the bottle in." The Gimp none to thrilled replies "Come on man is this really..." but Marcellus is persisting "hey muthafucka, you want this to be you?" The Gimp takes a breath, "Stick his ass!" Marcellus shouts, "and let the bitch feel it." The Gimp grabs the bottle and grits his teeth. He tugs his arm back and thrust forward shoving the bottle into Zeds unwilling ass. Zed tries his best to scream to no avail, "all the way in!" Marcellus orders. Zed begins to push; Marcellus throws a haymaker into Zeds ribs. The bottle finds its way into its desired resting then screams "How's it feel bitch, you like it?" Marcellus makes his way towards the bottle hanging out of Zeds ass. "I bet you wish you would have let that white boy kill me, huh?" Zed again in tears and almost hyper ventilating can't respond, "I told you, you was gonna feel me Hillbilly." He takes a step toward Zed and slams his foot into the bottle, causing it, along with Zeds ass, to explode, in the process sending Zed flying over the chair face first.

Marcellus and the Gimp give a silent look of mission accomplished. As they do, the buzzer from the upstairs door sounds. The Hawk has finally arrived. Marcellus tells the Gimp to "wait here," he slowly and confidently walks up the stairs and over to the front door. The Hawk, a slender dark-haired fellow, with a protruding almost beak like nose, comes in just as confident. "We got two going under and one going up," Marcellus says firmly. A simple "no problem boss" is replied. "You have my case?" Marcellus asks in the most sinister tone he can muster. "Right outside" the Hawk quickly replies. "Well, get started and send that muthafucka that's still standing up here." The Hawk heads toward the stairs, as he's going down, the Gimp makes his way up.

When he arrives at the top, Marcellus not looking away from his hands questions, "do you know who I am?" "Uh no I cannot say that I do, friend." The Gimp responds with a half hearted smile. Marcellus continues, "you see we have a very fragile fuckin situation, it's like dynamite in a way; If we don't handle this shit carefully the shit could blow." Marcellus gives a sharp glance towards The Gimp, who clears the lump in his throat, before responding. "Well uh friend, how would you suggest we keep, uh safe in this situation?" Marcellus kinda smirks, "oh we're gonna be safe cause them muthafuckas are going deep underground. If you don't want to join them, I need you to collect your life and resume it on another fuckin coast." The Gimp pauses in thought for a pregnant second, "another coast?" "Was I clear or what?" Marcellus snarls, " All you got to do is survive for five more minutes, but you're getting closer and closer to death with every misunderstood word that I hear from you." "Listen man," the Gimp goes to clarify, but is quickly shut down. "No muthafucka, you listen! Get your clothes and get out of that shit you're wearing." Marcellus comes from behind the counter and steps closer to the trembling Gimp, "My mans going to take you to the airport and you disappear; gone for good." "I have a girlfriend, and, and..." "Not anymore!" Marcellus shouts. Marcellus has gotten very close, "Now, my man here Mr. Hawk is gonna get your information, and if we even smell you on the west coast, me and you are gonna dance.

The Hawk briefly comes to the foot of the stairs, "all set boss." Marcellus is still very much focused on The Gimp, "so are you my nigga?" A puzzled look appears across the Gimps face, he does not respond but nods his head. "I need you to say it," Marcellus adds. Still looking a bit quizzed, the Gimp mumbles, "I'm your Ni... Niggah." It hangs in the air as thick as the English accent it was spoken with. NMarcellus nods his head and calls for The Hawk who comes to the stairs. "Finish the job, my nigga here is gonna help and then disappear, get his history, give him one out of the case, and get him on a flight east." Marcellus takes one last look at The Gimp and then around the room as he heads toward the front door. He spots a box of cigars on his way out and grabs one.

As he walks toward the door while unwrapping the cigar, he has relaxation on his mind. He unlocks and pushes the door open, revealing the deep reddish, orange and purple sunset in the Los Angeles sky. As he stands in the door way checking out the scene, the cigar now unwrapped, he goes to put it into his mouth. He pauses, looks at it, and then realizes nor it or anything else like it, can ever go near his mouth again. It gets tossed, and the stress returns to Marcellus face before he walks out of the door to the General Store for good.

Fade to Black.


End file.
